


Chapter Fifty-Seven: Times Like These

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [58]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two
Genre: Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Threats, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the captain's off the ship, Max and Hound are in command, as Artemis takes charge of a security posse to help them keep order on the ship. With Smokescreen's help, they round up a menagerie of deputies itching for justice, but what she hadn't counted on was Sunstreaker volunteering. Partnering up with the volatile fighter might have not been the best idea she had. </p><p>Meanwhile, Trailcutter, holing up in the Security office to run operations, is plagued by dropped communications and lost signals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Fifty-Seven: Times Like These

I hear the engine whine  
I watch the needle move in time and  
My nonchalance is fading fast  
You press your face against the windowpane  
You listen to the sound of the pouring rain and  
You watch the world as it moves past  
I wonder when you fell from grace  
Watch the heartbreak dance across your face and  
I wonder if it's ever meant to last

["Times Like These"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANBrAjd0Rrg) by Redemption, from _Home_  
  


Shuttle Bay Eleven  
_Lost Light_  
Now

The low-yield circuit booster kicked in about ten cycles after consumption, sparking along Artemis's neural pathways. _Oh, the original recipe, you cheeky bastard,_ she smirked en route to the shuttle bays.

Nor did Smokescreen disappoint; in addition to Inferno, the Praxian speedster had brought Blades, Dogfight, Doubletap, Sunstreaker (and, by default, Bob), and Strafe.

"So here's the deal," she initiated. "While the captain's moonside, Max is in charge, and we're gonna help keep order until then. We're gonna pair off, each team taking a deck."

"Yeah, about that," Dogfight grumbled. Doubletap glared at Smokescreen.

"Captain made the call, we respect that call." Artemis reminded. "You have a problem with Max, fine, report to me or Hound. But Max calls the shots when Captain's on the surface. Anyone wishing to back out without loss of honour or respect of the command and crew, speak up now. This is not a conscription. You are free to walk." She gave them five clicks; Dogfight and Doubletap glanced at one another, shuffling their weight, but said nothing. "Good; you're deputised. This honour extends until the Captain returns to the ship or a new chain of command is established in the case of the loss of said Captain."

"I heard she tore off Galvatron's cannon and used it against him, back on Earth," Strafe whispered behind Doubletap.

"Yeah, I was there," Sunstreaker added with a smirk. "And that was before they removed the choke collar. Think of the damage she's capable of now."

Had they been in the bar, she would have corrected him, but out of the seven, only Sunstreaker knew her prior to the Legion Conflict, and Smokescreen, during. Hyping her cock-ups as heroics to the five unfamiliar was for her benefit, one she took running. "Blades with Dogfight, Hab levels; Doubletap with Strafe, Science and Communications levels. Inferno, you and Smokescreen, Medibay and Engineering. Sunstreaker, with me; we're on Command and Assembly levels.

"Report to Trailcutter in the Security office every quarter-megacycle. You have authorisation to detain and arrest with just cause, but you need to call it in to 'Cutter, and he will send one of the Hydrobots — "

"Does that include Aquafend?" Smokescreen questioned.

Artemis shot him a warning glare. " — to help process. You have your assignments; dismissed."

Once each team went their separate ways, Sunstreaker took to her left, with Bob loping at their heels. "I knew you'd get bored of Teebs eventually," the heavy speedster chortled.

"You're with me because the others would find ways of making you 'disappear'," Artemis reminded. "And that's the last time you say anything about 'Cutter."

"That a challenge?"

"I'm going to remind you that I'm likely the only one on board who remotely tolerates you for extended periods. And just because I'm missing a limb doesn't mean I can't bring you to your knees."

"Now who's dropping the innuendos?" Before she could retort, Sunstreaker brought his hands up in defence. "So what's the plan?"

"Uphold the peace while Rod and company find out what happened to Magnus," Artemis shrugged. "Sorry if it sounds boring, and I didn't expect Dogfight and Doubletap to volunteer; they're probably not too happy about Max being assigned a command position."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Sunstreaker's volume dropped. "Big guy went through hell, 'course he's gonna have some demons clinging on the return trip."

Was he taking Max's side? Artemis regarded her temporary partner. "I did not expect that from you."

"Feh. You and I both know what that's like. Get shot, get a sympathy note, some well-wishes. Survive a massacre without a physical scratch, you're expected to tough it out." The cock-sure smirk faltered. "Three hours, three days, three years — what does it matter? Torture's torture. And...just...I'm just...I don't know."

The use of human terminology caught Artemis's attention, but she let it slide. "I found talking to Rung helped things in my case. Still having issues — hell, still trying to drown them — "

"Yeah, he's tried to get me in to chat. Thing is — yeah, forget it. Ain't important."

Bob whined, bumped his head against Sunstreaker's leg as they stepped into the lift.

"It's important, but you don't want to talk about it. I get it."

"Thing is, I don't think Rung can help me," he admitted.

Artemis nodded, but remained silent.

Sunstreaker chuckled again, a sardonic noise. "You're not taking the bait."

"You're not insulting my friends. What's private's private."

"You know what happened to me? Back on Earth, after you left to find Rod?"

She shook her head. "I wasn't privy to that information."

"Yeah, by the time we were kicked off-planet, it turned into one big clusterfrag. I got seriously fragged up in the process. Made bad choices. Did slag I regretted." A pause. "I don't like humans, Art. Not because they're weak. Because of what they're capable of. How desperate to obtain and weaponise immortality. They can be just as bad as the 'Cons. Aw, frag it; you don't need to hear this."

"You need to unload," she observed. "I get it — and I don't mind."

"And that's what I hate about you. You pretend to care, when you're really just gathering information. Doesn't have to be for anything in particular. You'll find a use for it. I know your type. Information is just another commodity."

Emotion drained her face, leaving a mask. "It is to some, yes."

"I'm just trying to figure out what you need Teebs for. He's a good shield, yeah, but — "

She slammed him into the lift wall, pressing her weight against him. He neither struggled nor retaliated; Bob's whine was the only indication Sunstreaker had an angle he was playing.

"See? You do understand." His face split into a malicious grin. "The self-loathing, the self-destruction, the nihilism. Used up and spat out, left for dead. Wishing they finished the job. And some righteous gashole thinks they're doing you a favour and brings you back from the brink, never taking into consideration that, even while you walk and talk and laugh and frag, deep down, you're still standing on that cliff, waiting to fall. And the only think keeping you from pitching forward? One thread. One fine, impossible thread. A reminder of what you had been. What you could have been. And you hate it and you love it and you just want to protect it, cut it, all at the same time. But you can't, because there's that fear. The fear and the pain of what's waiting for you at the bottom, of what you had become to survive." Now he chuckled. "And here's you, Art. You think you've finally been able to step away. You get complacent. You drop your guard. And that's what's gonna destroy you in the end. Not in battle. Some resourceful enemy is gonna find what means the most to you and take him out, and that is what will destroy you."

"Why are you doing this?" she hissed, stepping back.

Bob chirped, returning to his master's side and leaning heavily. Sunstreaker knelt, stroking the Insecticon's helm. "Fragged if I know," he admitted. "When do I ever know what I'm doing? I'm just pointing out the obvious. Survivor's guilt, perhaps. A reminder that regardless, we're always alone."

"Yeah," Artemis bowed her head. "I used to think that way, too."

"You still do, or else you'd be ignoring me altogether. Maybe that's what I'm trying to say. It's easier just to stop caring."

The lift dinged at their destination. "What happened to you on Earth?" She demanded.

He chuckled, leaning in uncomfortably close. "I thought you'd never ask."

_"Hey, Art, your team's five cycles over. What's your status?"_

"Going over our route, 'Cutter," Artemis answered, optics unwavering on Sunstreaker's. "Setting boundaries."

"Just making sure you didn't completely defang your girlfriend, 'Breaker," Sunstreaker laughed. "She's still got a bite."  
_"More than a bite if you don't watch it,"_ came the retort. _"Gears and Huffer reported weird energy fluctuations in the Maintenance levels; Hound's checking it out. Cav's reporting problems with comms, but she's picked up a ship flying Sirian colours and wanted you to ID it."_

"Sirian colours?" Artemis repeated. "And what's this about Maintenance?"

_"Smokescreen checked in ten cycles ago, but when I hailed them to meet up with Huffer, neither responded, hence why Hound went in. I'll keep you posted."_

"Smokescreen's a flake," Sunstreaker shrugged, "but Inferno?"

Bob growled, pressing his belly to the floor and backing away from the two bipedal Autobots. Artemis and Sunstreaker locked gazes before turning their heads to what had caused Bob to react aggressively.  
  


_< <Seventeen-Twenty-One.>>_

 

*  
Engineering  
Ten cycles ago

"Oh, this is fraggin' hysterical," Dipstick cursed, scanning the datapad Hoist had handed him. "You know the damned scraplet's likely high on circuit boosters, right? These output levels are impossible to duplicate!"

Hoist sighed, wishing he had insisted to have Grapple accompany him. Grapple could make impossible numbers work. "According to Cavalier, these are the _Wreckers' Spoils'_ output during the Conflict, while they were — " _what the hell were they doing, anyway?_ " — on a scientific survey."

"Scientific survey my exhaust port, Hoist. Just because they had that tight-valved Vosian shuttle with them — I saw the piston sucker fight in a pinch, he was as much a heavy as that crazy-aft Wrecker your roomie's been fraggin'."

 _Don't remind me._ "Look, Dipstick, any other time, I'd ask Brainstorm or Perceptor, but they're both on the away team. This is an engineering problem, which means you and I are qualified to understand it and break it down in the case we — "

"And I'm tellin' you it's impossible!" Dipstick countered. "Don't care what the scraplet says — no Warworld could output those types of power readings, no more than this gear-jamming fold engine could!" As for emphasis, the brighter green Autobot gave the console a hard kick. "Lemme tell you somethin', Hoist. Neither those two are good news. The scraplet or Wrecker Prime. You'd do best to ignore them, avoid them, 'cause one day you're gonna find yourselves involved in some carbon-slagging quagmire and —"

"That's enough." Hoist interrupted, narrowing his optics. "I may not know Cavalier all that well yet, but I think it's safe to say that while we banter and argue, Artemis is my friend." _Did I just admit that? Aloud?!_ "And while she has a history of bad luck and worse choices, I can guarantee her first and foremost concern is the welfare of this crew and those she considers her friends. And while yes, I will agree with you in regards with the Wreckers in general, may I remind you who covered your team on Betelgeuse IV just before its sun went supernova?"

Dipstick's scowl dropped with his jaw, before clamping his mouth closed with a snap. "I wouldn't doubt it if she was responsible for the Primus-damned schism with the Eee-Gee. Ask Smokescreen about that, I'm sure that pompous gashole had his nose so far up the afts of both Jazz and Springer, he's bound to know slag he shouldn't about that whole fiasco."

Had Dipstick heard him? Did he not comprehend what Hoist had said? Dimming his optics, Hoist inhaled, exhaled, then met his fellow engineer's gaze. "We all came on board to start new lives, and like it or not, we started them together. So regardless of your history, however one-sided your memory is, with Artemis or with Cavalier or with anyone else on this crew, you drop it now and you help me figure out these output readings. Are we clear?"

Neither engineer moved, locked in a stare down. "We don't have time for this," Hoist reminded, "and if Cavalier's correct, and this — the rift, Luna 1 — is related to the dimensional rifts they were following five stels ago, we need to be prepared to get the hell out of here in a hurry. Now let's stop arguing whether or not it's possible and get to work."

 _< <Seventeen-Twenty-One>_>

"What was that?" Dipstick demanded.

 

*  
Bridge  
Ten Cycles Ago

Grapple was having a field day, pouring over the hi-res images on the auxiliary monitor next to Cavalier. "Oh! Look at this!" He cried, jabbing the display with such force as to distort the colour, indicating a sweeping series of spires surrounding a gradual valley. "This design is reminiscent of the Ratioists who settled into Iacon well over eight million stels ago! Most of those buildings on Cybertron had been destroyed or dismantled during the Functionist Clampdown. But to see the structure in person! Brilliant! And here! These were Exodus-era amphitheatres and temples of the Thirteen! Oh, I hope we get a chance to explore these ruins!"

"Two words for me, Graps: lost tech," Cavalier chortled, her optics never deviating from her own console. "Don't know much about religion, but damn, if we can get our hands on pre-Exodus comms, we may never have to worry about losing signals again! And speaking of signals, we could boost the ship-wide wifi. Hey, Mainframe, check out the freq on seven-point-two. Does that sound brown-note to you?"

"Did anyone understand what she just said?" Hound questioned from the second officer's chair, foot over one knee and arms crossed, glancing down at the datapad in his lap, its current program mapping the moon's surface.

"Extremely low frequency on channel seven-point-two," Mainframe translated, focusing in on the data. "Something's in there, all right. Not just engine noise."

"Play that track for me," Blaster ordered, jacking into his comms for deeper scrutiny. Without looking up, he pointed to Mainframe. "Keep scanning for satellites. Cav, focus ship-wide; I'm picking up some dropped lines."

Max, forgoing the chairs for standing, remained silent, instead listening to the banter around him all while studying intel streaming from the various departments. A blip from Maintenance, but the call was fielded to security: request for patrol while repairs were made to coolant system.

"Yeah, that's engine noise, all right, but not from us," Blaster stated. "There's telemetry in there as well, but unless we can find a way to boost that signal — "

Cavalier stood in her seat and waved her hand in a "Pick me! Pick me!" manner. "Dude, I know seven-point-two; I abused the slag outta it on the Spoils. Sirian merc channel, primarily for mark claims, but also useful for pinging enemy ships — oh." She fell into her seat, ramrod straight. "Dude, someone's pinging us."

"Probably this guy," Mainframe sighed, bringing a hi-res up on the main screen, exposing an asymmetrical star cruiser, as large as the _Lost Light_ painted space black with dark green splatters.

"Looks Legion, but paint job's screaming rogue," Cavalier observed. She bolted from her seat again, and, before Max could demand what the hell she was doing, she was perched on his shoulder, nose to the large monitor. "Very rogue. Pirates, even. Dude! Dude! Dude! That's Sirian script! I know Sirian script! Can't read it, but I know what it looks like!"

"Someone translate Brat for me?" Max demanded, reaching up to dislodge the Minibot; she jumped down before he could. "Back to your post, Cav."

"What's a Sirian affiliate doing in a dimensional rift?" Blaster pondered. "Cav, you know your role!"

"On it — hey, boss lady, know of any Sirian experts we can tap for some intel?"

 _"Hey, Blaster, you reading me?"_ Trailcutter hailed.

The comms officer switched gears, thumbing the intercom. "Loud and proud, big guy; what's shaking?"

_"Smokescreen and Inferno aren't answering my hail; can you pinpoint them? Last they pinged was in Maintenance."_

"Boss lady's ignoring me," Cav growled, switching hails. "Hey, Smokey, where's your fine aft?"

Blaster gave her a thumbs up, but addressed the security relay. "I'll see what I can do, but we're focused on our fearless leader and co. We'll keep you posted."

_"All I can ask for. Thanks, Blaster."_

"Funny, neither ain't answering," Cavalier grumbled.

"Maybe they're ignoring you?" Mainframe suggested.

She made a pfft! sound. "Please. They both know ignoring me only makes me more determined."

Hound regarded her with an arched brow, then touched the comm in the chair's console. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked Trailcutter.

_"Huffer's reading some radiation from some coolant leaks; he thinks it might be intentional."_

Hound jumped to his feet. "I need to stretch my servos anyway; sitting pretty in a chair never suited me much. Besides, if something's pinging those old rad counters, it could be more serious than realised."

_"Good thinking, Hound — thanks!"_

As he left the bridge, Grapple and Cavalier were in discussion, quiet yet animated. She nodded, jetpacking the communique. "While we got you on the horn," she interrupted, "We need a split relay; Grapple can't get a hold of Hoist and boss lady's ignoring me."

_"Can do — what's the problem?"_

"Me and Grapple were concentrating on surface scanning, and while he wanted to tell Hoist about nerd stuff, I picked up a ship hiding dark side. Can't pull a registration, but it's got a Sirian gang brand and I need boss lady to ID it."

Pause. Grapple frowned, and Cavalier picked up the meaning. When Trailcutter hesitated, he was worried. _"Will do, Cav. Art's in your vicinity, I'll send her your way."_

"Something's wrong," Grapple stood. "I'm going to check in on Hoist."

"Anyone care if I go hunt down the boss lady?" Cavalier demanded at the same time.

Max regarded the caution-yellow mech and white-and-black Minibot, then nodded. Grapple followed in Hound's suit; Cavalier kicked open the grate below her station and shimmied through the vent.

"Better than somersaulting," Mainframe muttered when Max was about to comment on the unconventional exit.

"Welcome aboard the _Lost Light_ ," Blaster chuckled, returning his attention to the screen. And frowned. "This ain't good. Just lost connection with the away team."

"Hey, Cav, did you hit a wire down there?" Mainframe shouted down the vent.

_< <Seventeen-Twenty-One>>_

"Did anyone else here that?" Max demanded, just as suppression fire rang out over their heads.

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Dissonance

**Author's Note:**

> True story: when I originally sketched out the outline to this (after Fil says, "Hey, I want to see you draw that scene from _Raiders_ " and before the story took this bizarre turn after what would become "Knights of Hedonia"), Art was hanging out a helluva lot more with Sunstreaker (aromantic; that path led to more destruction and ruin in more ways than one.) I'm glad they didn't, and at the same time, I'm curious to see what would have happened. Might explore it one of these days in an AU thread.


End file.
